


Finding Cinna

by orphan_account



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cinna angers President Snow by turning Katniss into the Mockingjay on national television, he is beaten and dragged from the Capitol building, never to be heard from again.  This is the story of what happens when Haymitch tries to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Cinna

"Katniss, when you're in the arena," Haymitch said. He paused, struggling to find the right words to say it that wouldn't give too much away.

"What?" Katniss asked defensively.

"Just remember who the enemy is. That's all. Now go on, get out of here."

Haymitch watched Katniss and Peeta walk down the hallway. As soon as they were safely out of sight, his whole body sagged from the weight of what had just happened. The parade of previous victors questioning the Capitol's authority; Katniss' dress bursting into flames, turning her into a mockingjay; Peeta's revelation about the pregnancy, dramatic no matter how false it was; the tributes joining hands across the stage; the lights suddenly going black once President Snow figured out what was happening. It was too much. They'd gone too far too soon.

Haymitch rubbed his temples. That dress, Katniss' dress! He'd known Cinna was up to something, working furiously late into the night for the past two weeks, but he had thought it was the new uniforms for District 13. Cinna had a flair for the dramatic, and Haymitch figured he wanted a big reveal upon their arrival. He never imagined anything like this. He didn't know what it would mean for their plan. Worse, he didn't even know if they could keep Katniss alive long enough to carry it out.

What Haymitch _did_ know was that he desperately needed a drink.

*****

Cinna awoke to a loud banging on his door. "Cinna! Ciiiiinnaaaaa! Open up." Thunk thunk thunk. "C'mon, Cinna!"

He threw off the covers and grabbed a stunning blue silk bathrobe that he wrapped around himself on his way to the door. He didn't need to look through the peephole to know who would be on the other side. He knew that Haymitch had seen and done a lot of horrible things just to stay alive and that the Games brought back all manner of bad memories that he tried to drink away. But Cinna hated to see him like this.

"Haymitch, please," he said, opening the door halfway. "I think they can hear you back in District 12."

Haymitch gripped the doorframe to steady himself at the sudden opening of the door. He looked at Cinna with pleading eyes. "What have you done?"

"Coin wanted a symbol," Cinna replied wearily. "I gave her one."

"You must realize what this means? What Snow will do to you? He won't let you get away with this. It won't be pretty." The words spilled from Haymitch's mouth faster than his brain could keep up with them. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You and I both know that if I had told you, you would have tried to talk me out of it."

"You're damn right I would have!"

Cinna placed a hand on Haymitch's shoulder and gave an affectionate squeeze. "But you know it needed to be done. Now please, calm down. We're both tired, and you are drunk."

"And you're as good as dead," Haymitch spit out hotly.

Cinna felt himself turn an even paler shade. "I think you should go to bed." Haymitch just stared at him. "We can talk about this tomorrow. Go back to your room and get some sleep. There's a bottle of medicine on the second shelf in the bathroom cupboard."

"Cinna–" Haymitch began, but he was cut off.

"No. We can talk tomorrow after you've sobered up." His face softened, but his tone remained firm. "I promise."

Clearly still unsatisfied, Haymitch turned around and stumbled down the hallway. Cinna watched him go, knowing that Haymitch's fears were not unfounded. He had known before even making the alternations to the dress that what he was doing was dangerous, and he certainly didn't have any regrets about his actions. The rebellion needed its Mockingjay far more than it needed him. But looking at Haymitch, he felt a pang of sadness about what was to come, and what he was surely leaving behind.

*****

The next morning, Haymitch woke at dawn, still wearing his clothes from the previous night's festivities, having passed out, legs dangling off the side of the bed. He dragged himself up and into the bathroom, hoping for a hot shower and some of those meds Cinna had mentioned.

Less than an hour later, Haymitch was with Effie Trinket in a large room, surrounded by Capitol elites and mentors from the Districts. Video monitors covered three of the walls, with the oversized, garish face of Caesar Flickerman as he led the countdown to the start of the Quarter Quell. The entire south wall was a large plate glass window that overlooked a throng of people gathered in the main square fifteen stories below. In the center of the room was a table piled high with crepes, quiche, unnaturally bright fruits, and more sumptuous food than even the sizeable group that had already gathered could possibly consume. Avoxes weaved through the crowd with trays of orange juice and champagne.

Haymitch eyed the tall, fizzy glasses. "Maybe it's best to hold off on that," Effie said. "You look a bit peakish." She summoned a pretty red-haired Avox who had been standing in the corner and asked for two cups of coffee. "We do want to be on our toes."

"I supposed you're right," Haymitch replied gruffly.

The Avox girl returned with their coffee just as someone turned up the sound on the monitors several notches. Haymitch winced and took it from her with a grim nod.

"Welcome to the Hunger Games," the voice of Claudius Templesmith boomed, and the seal of the Capitol filled the screens instantly. "Thank you for joining us for our third Quarter Quell. This morning, we welcome our previous victors back to the arena, as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol. Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Seventh-fifth Hunger Games begin!"

Haymitch and Effie turned toward the monitors. The Capitol seal disintegrated into an overhead shot of the arena. Several people in the room gasped as they took in the expanse of shimmering water that covered a most of the arena, with just a small island in the shape of a wheel with twelve spokes. Twenty-four pods containing the tributes from all twelve districts rose up from the water. The image on several monitors switched suddenly to a closer look of at some of the more popular tributes.

"What in the hell is she doing?" Haymitch asked.

Effie looked at him quizzically. "What are you talking about?"

He waved at her absently and stepped closer to the screen, rambling more to himself than answering her. "It looked for a second there like Katniss was about to fall off her platform. You'd almost think she had been leaning up on the glass before it disappeared, but that doesn't make any sense. Of course you never know what to expect with the Games, but it can't have been surprise over the water. She does know how to swim. I think."

"Oh, here they go," Effie whispered.

Haymitch watched Katniss' screen intently for a moment, then turned toward her with a start. "Where's Cinna?"

"He was supposed to be helping Katniss dress for the Games, then he was going to join us here. Why?"

"No. No, no, no." Haymitch turned back toward the screen, then spun around wildly. "Not _leaning_ on the glass. _Pushing_ on the glass."

"What in the world are you talking about," Effie asked. The pieces of the puzzle had connected in his mind but were not making any sense to an outside observer.

"I have to go. I have to find Cinna."

"You can't just leave! The Games have already started. He'll be here soon."

"No, he won't. Something's wrong; I have to find him. You don't understand."

Effie placed her hand on Haymitch's arm. "I do understand," she said kindly. The look on her face spoke volumes, which surprised him. Effie raised her right eyebrow in response. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out that juicy piece of gossip? I know you're concerned, but I'm sure Cinna is fine. You're their only mentor, Haymitch. What will they do without you?"

"I'm sorry," was all he could muster before he dashed out of the room.

*****

Haymitch maneuvered down the corridors as quickly as he could. He passed the festively decorated sections surrounding the viewing room and continued moving until he found himself in a brightly lit, industrial looking maze of corridors. Many years of hard drinking and a lack of exercise left him wheezing as he tried to remember the right sequence of turns. Fortunately, most of the Capitol was crammed around televisions watching the start of the Games, and that included building staff and security. He did not encounter much resistance.

He finally found what he was looking for in a large, heavy metal door that was hidden in a small nook at the end of one of the corridors. The door creaked open slowly and with much effort. Haymitch took a deep breath and descended the many flights of stairs in front of him. At the bottom was a matching door. He pushed it open, and ducked out onto the street.

The door let out on a side street, away from the huge mob of people in the main square. Haymitch was still close enough to hear the gasps, shrieks, and cheers of the crowd, and he could only imagine the horrors they were reacting to. If all went according to plan, Katniss and Peeta should still be safe; Fennick would see to that. He silently hoped that all was going according to plan, and kept moving in the direction of the arena.

After a few blocks, he caught sight of a taxi letting out a carful of drunken revelers headed toward the square. He threw his arm up into the air and ran after it. "Wait!" He grabbed the door before the last passenger could slam it closed and hopped into the back seat. "Take me to the arena."

The cabbie looked at him in disbelief. "I'm not going over there. It's a madhouse."

"Please, I need to get over there now. I'll pay you double your regular rate," Haymitch bargained.

"No way, man. I may need the money, but I'm not crazy."

He hated to do it, but he knew what this situation called for. "I don't know if you recognize me," he began, "But my name is Haymitch Abernathy."

"You supposed to be someone famous or something?"

Haymitch sighed. It would figure that the one time he actually wanted recognition for having participated in the Games, it would fall flat. He tried again. "I fought in the Hunger Games. I won the last Quarter Quell."

"No kidding!" The cabbie seemed genuinely impressed at this knowledge. "Well, tell me this, Mr. Haymitch Abernathy. Shouldn't you be up there helping the tributes from your district?"

"I should," he admitted. "But I need to get something important from the arena. Very important. Top secret Hunger Games business only victors know about. If I told you, the President would have you killed."

The cabbie's eyes widened. "Get in, then!" Haymitch had barely closed the door before the cabbie peeled out with a squeal of tires. "Wait 'till I tell my brother this one!"

Fifteen minutes later, the cab screeched to a halt in front of an official-looking building. "This is as far as I can take you," he said. Haymitch tossed him a handful of bills and jumped out of the car. The cabbie hit the gas, anxious to get away from the area as quickly as possible.

Haymitch stood for a moment looking at the large, imposing structure in front of him. Surely there would be someone inside the front entrance. He noticed a narrow street on the east side of the building and decided to investigate. Haymitch tried the handle of a grimy metal door marked "Employees" and it opened without much of a struggle.

He entered the building and exited the stairwell through an inner door that looked much the same as the outer one. The bright hallway was practically deserted, the Capitol employees all off controlling various video equipment and managing the new horrors that were surely taking place in the arena. Haymitch surveyed his surroundings, then headed in the direction of the tributes' preparation rooms.

*****

Effie circled the room nervously, making small talk and sipping the same glass of champagne. A bloody forty-five minutes had passed since the Games started, and mentors from the other districts were clustered together, whispering and planning how to best assist their tributes out in the field. She wasn't sure what Katniss and Peeta would do if Haymitch didn't return some time soon.

She peered out the window to look out over the square, taking a break from the action on the monitors. As high up as they were, she could still hear the shouting and cheering from the crowd below. "It's a bit much to take once it starts, isn't it," she heard a low voice say.

Effie was startled to see none other than Plutarch Heavensbee, the newest Head Gamemaker, standing next to her. "Mr. Heavensbee! I would have thought that you would not be as affected by it all."

"When we're planning the Games, it's much more abstract. It's different when you see your creations in play," he admitted. "Between you and me, it's going to get much worse for them from here."

Effie's eyes widened. She wasn't quite sure how to respond, so she turned her gaze back to the window. Heavensbee cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, breaking up the tension a little. "Now, where has Abernathy gotten himself off to?"

"Oh, he's around here somewhere," she answered as breezily as she could muster.

"Well, when you see him, tell him that I was looking for him."

"Yes, of course!"

"Good, good." Heavensbee plastered a smile on his face and wandered off to schmooze the other guests at the party.

Effie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She downed what was left of her champagne as she pondered what she would do when that excuse didn't work anymore.

*****

Haymitch wandered the corridors of the building until he found the room where Katniss prepared herself for the games. The door was partly ajar, and a light shone into the hallway. He peered through the crack and found a blond Avox boy who couldn't have been more than nineteen on his hands and knees, scrubbing what looked like blood stains from a plush tan carpet.

He burst into the room. "What happened in here?" The boy's eyes met Haymitch's for a brief moment before he returned to his work. Haymitch took a few steps closer. "Please, where have they taken him?"

The boy stopped his work again and deliberately looked up to the farthest corner near the ceiling. He appeared to dry his hands on his pants, and stood up to face Haymitch. He shook his head sadly and took Haymitch's hand, squeezing it once before resuming his task.

Haymitch thanked him and placed his hand in his pocket as he left the room. He walked to the very end of the hallway. Above him was a video camera surveying the entire floor, except for the small blind zone where he was standing. He pulled out a small scrap of paper from his pocket that the Avox boy had slipped him when he shook his hand. An address on the outskirts of the Capitol had been hastily scrawled on it. Haymitch knew how dangerous it was for the boy to have even attempted to pass him information. He silently thanked him and hoped that the guards were too busy watching the Games like the rest of the Capitol residents to have noticed their brief exchange.

Now, he had to figure out how to get to the edge of town. He doubted that he could count on his not-quite-fame as a victor twice in one day, and he certainly didn't want to draw attention to himself. He sketched out a mental map of the City, and started to plan.

*****

Effie glanced down at her watch, just as she had three minutes before, and two minutes before that. Haymitch had been gone for several hours without any word. The worst of the first day's bloodshed had passed, and from what little she could glimpse of them from the video monitors, it seemed as if Katniss and Peeta had allied themselves with Mags and Finnick from District 4. It was strange, Effie thought, that although the two victors from District 12 were so popular among citizens, the Capitol had not shown them much in the official coverage.

Avoxes came and went throughout the day with mounds of food for lunch, snack, and dinner, but most of the Capitol's social and political elite had left earlier in the day. All that remained were mentors from the various districts and a few handlers and coaching staff who had become close to the tributes over the years.

Effie surveyed the scene. She noticed two mentors from District 4, Nelumbo and Merremia, arguing intently near a video monitor featuring Katniss and Finnick. Nelumbo was a tall wisp of a man whose slender build masked a fierce athleticism. Merremia was shorter and broader and had probably been imposing in his youth. Like many of the victors, though, he lived a hard life, and his physique had seen better days. Effie could tell that they were trying to keep their voices down, but they were doing a poor job of it, their hoarse whispers carrying across to where she was standing ten feet away.

"We need to get them some water."

"They'll figure something out. We only have one shot at sending them help at this point. We don't want to waste everything on water."

"I am telling you, if we don't get them water soon, they will die in the night. What do you think will happen to the plan then?"

Effie cleared her throat and took a step closer. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear–"

The two men looked up with a start at the interruption. "Who are you?" Merremia asked brusquely.

Effie pulled herself up to the full height of her small frame. "I am Effie Trinket, escort for the District 12 tributes. I couldn't help but overhear that you were discussing sending a gift to your tributes from District 4."

Nelumbo extended his hand to her in greeting. "You'll have to excuse my colleague. He doesn't visit the Capitol often and seems to have forgotten his manners. It looks as if our charges are all working together."

"They are!" Effie exclaimed. "I thought that perhaps since they are working together in the arena, perhaps we could work together here as well to help them."

Merremia eyed her suspiciously. "Where is Abernathy? Isn't _he_ supposed to be their mentor? He told us–"

Nelumbo cut him off. "What Merremia means to say is, how is it that you are coordinating on behalf of the 'star crossed lovers' instead of their mentor?"

"Haymitch isn't available right now," Effie said, doing her best to muster a tone that indicated the subject was closed. "I heard you talking about water. They've been running out there in the woods almost all day. Shouldn't they need water by now?"

"That’s what I was just saying!" Merremia softened once he realized Effie would join his side of the argument.

Nelumbo sighed. "And as _I_ was saying, we can't just waste all our resources sending them water. It's too expensive for a gift they can only use once."

"What about a water purifier?" Merremia suggested. "They could use that again and again."

"But then they would need to be out in the open near the shore, which is far too dangerous right now. It's just not feasible."

"What about the trees?" Effie asked.

The two men looked at her skeptically. "The trees?"

"Yes, the trees," Effie repeated. "They have to be getting water from somewhere."

"Genius!" Merremia nearly shouted. "But you're from the Capitol. How did you think of that?"

Effie fluffed her golden hair self-consciously. "When I was young, my grandmother kept a garden. Her house was always filled with flowers in so many beautiful colors."

"So what do we do, then? Send them a shovel so they can dig for water," Merremia suggested.

"No," Nelumbo replied, thoughtfully. "That takes too long and leaves far too much of a trail behind them. What they need is a spile."

"What's a spile? I've never heard of that," Effie said.

"A spile is a sort of hollow tube that taps into the side of the tree and lets out the water," Nelumbo explained. "But it's ridiculous to consider it an option. It would be much more expensive than our benefactors could afford. Maybe if we pooled the resources between our two districts, maybe, but even then it's pretty unlikely we could raise that much."

"You figure out how to get a spile," Effie said confidently. "Leave the rest to me." She pulled out her mobile communicator and began dialing. "Penelope, darling! How are you? Are you still watching the Games? Oh, I knew you would be. Listen..."

*****

Haymitch wandered through the darkened corridors of the Capitol's facility on the outskirts of town. It had taken him the better part of the day hopping from cab to cab on an indirect route across town, then walking the last several miles to get there. And this building was much more heavily secured than either of the earlier ones had been. Exhausted, he hugged the walls to stay out of view of the ever-present surveillance cameras and ducked around corners to avoid security cameras.

Finally, four subbasements below ground level, he heard it. A pitiful wail echoed off the concrete walls, nearly driving Haymitch out from his hiding place in a rage. He caught himself at the last moment and held back for what felt like an eternity, though it could not have been more than five minutes.

The heavy, metal door creaked open, and Haymitch strained to hear any more sounds coming from the room within. Two guards emerged. They seemed calm, almost nonchalant as they casually walked down the corridor discussing their dinner plans. He pressed himself against the wall, disappearing further into the shadows, until the guards turned the corner.

Forgetting himself and the ubiquitous video cameras, Haymitch ran down the hall in a panic. The door was sturdier and more imposing than any of the others he'd encountered so far, and it was locked tight. He fished around in his pockets and produced a small flashlight and a penknife. He turned the flashlight on, held it between his teeth, and set himself quickly to work.

*****

Merremia, Nalumbo, and Effie stood in a tight semicircle around one of the monitors in the mostly-deserted viewing room. Effie bit her thumbnail absently as they watched the silver parachute glide through the thick foliage of the arena to the four tributes waiting below. They held their breaths and watched Peeta unwrap the spile.

"I don't think they know what to do with it," Merremia said.

On the screen, Katniss rolled the spile back and forth between her palms. "Think, Katniss, think," Effie urged her. "You're a smart girl. I know you go into the woods when you're not supposed to. Where else would you get all of those bruises? Come on, pretty girl. You know this."

Nalumbo rubbed his eyes wearily. "It looks like they're giving up, going to sleep."

"Come on, come on, come on," Effie's voice was barely a whisper, but she kept chanting as if she could get Katniss to figure it out through sheer force of will. Suddenly, Katniss sat bolt upright on the screen. "She's got it! She knows what it is!"

The three watched in rapt attention as the tributes worked together as a team, taking turns with Mags' awl digging a hole in a nearby tree. When the first drop rolled out of the lip of the spile into Mags' hand, they let out a cheer of victory. They'd done it. They had gotten them water.

*****

Haymitch heaved a sigh when the lock finally clicked. He pushed open the door into a cold, windowless room and stood frozen to the spot at the sight of Cinna on the dirty floor in a crumpled heap, barely conscious and bleeding heavily. "Oh, Cinna," he whispered.

Cinna let out a weak moan, which sprung Haymitch into action. He ran across the small room and knelt down on the floor next to him. "Wake up," he urged softly, taking Cinna's head in his lap and stroking the matted hair off his forehead. "Please wake up."

His eyes fluttered open briefly, then he closed them again. "Haymitch? I didn't tell them anything."

"Shh, shh, I know you didn't. I'm here. I have to get you out of here."

Cinna shook his head slightly. "I can't move."

"I'll carry you out of here if I have to. Come on," Haymitch pleaded.

Cinna opened his eyes again. His breathing was becoming more labored the longer they sat there. "I won't make it. Why did you come here? Katniss needs you."

Haymitch blinked back tears. "I couldn't stand the thought that the last thing I ever said to you was that you're as good as dead. I needed to tell you that–"

"I know," Cinna cut him off. "I know you do. But you need to leave before they find you."

"I can't just leave you here!"

"Yes you can. I've done my work. The rebellion needs you now." He closed his eyes to rest. Haymitch reached his free hand out to hold Cinna's and gave his hand a squeeze. "It doesn't feel like you're leaving," Cinna joked weakly, eyes still closed.

Haymitch laughed bitterly through the tears he could not hold back any longer. He took off his jacket and placed it under Cinna's head as a pillow, then leaned over to kiss his forehead. "Goodbye," he whispered.

Cinna touched his leg as he went to stand up. "Thank you for coming for me. I didn't think you would."

"Of course I came." Haymitch brushed his cheek softly. "Of course I did."

Cinna's eyes fluttered open one last time. "Please, Haymitch."

He nodded and kissed him again before slipping out of the room. When he heard the door click shut behind him, he nearly turned back, but the thundering of boots on concrete floor in the distance told him that he needed to get out of the building as quickly as possible.

*****

"Tell me!" Katniss shouted. "You've used me as a pawn, made me go back into the arena, practically kidnapped me! The least you could do is tell me where my family is, whether they're safe! What about Gale and Cinna?"

Plutarch Heavensbee looked over to President Coin for her approval. She nodded for him to answer her. "Your mother and sister are somewhere safe along with Gale. As for Cinna–" He paused and glanced over to Haymitch, who was standing behind him. "My intelligence sources believe that he was killed during interrogation."

Hearing those words spoken aloud so nonchalantly and in front of so many people made Haymitch's face flush. He wondered whether they would affect him so much every time he heard them, how long the image of Cinna's beaten, bloodied face would haunt his dreams. But listening to Plutarch dismiss Cinna's death – no, murder – so calmly made him realize that he wanted to remember. He _needed_ to remember. Long after everyone had forgotten Cinna's name or his contribution to the cause in the face of flashier and more explosive acts by others throughout the rebellion, Haymitch knew that he would always hold tight to the memory of what Cinna had done for them all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry that I couldn't give you the happy ending you wanted in your optional details, but I hope that you can have a little closure for poor Cinna!
> 
> Thanks so much to my lovely beta Kristin for all of her help!


End file.
